


Live Hard (die a little death)

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types, Walking Dead
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, bit of rough-housing, smut for the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:51:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was cliché.</p><p>Oh god, was it cliché.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Hard (die a little death)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: Set sometime after the season five finale. Meant to fit between seasons.
> 
> Warnings: *Contains: a bit of rough-housing, first time, oral sex, fingering, adult language, adult content, smut, porn without plot.

It was cliché.

_Oh god, was it cliché._

But the beautiful part was that she didn't even care. Because Daryl was eating her out like it was  _breathing_. Like he'd been  _born_  for it. Born to have his face shoved between a pair of legs and a slick center. Eating her out like there was nowhere on earth he'd rather be as she locked her knees and went along for the ride.

She bit down on a squeal. Losing the ability to feel guilty as her nails scored across his scalp half urging, half in warning. Cheeks heating with arousal and a sticky sort of embarrassed pride that came part and parcel with hearing him slurp up her juices. Talented tongue curling and stroking, nosing at her clit as his cheeks and chin grew slick with her. Keeping her spread – on display – as dirty nails dug firmly into the soft of her thighs.

It wasn't how she thought it would happen.

Wasn't even  _them_  if she was being honest.

It was like something had just _ricocheted_.

He'd been snappy after their near miss – out on a supply run for the pantry, all because she'd been getting itchy playing suburban soccer mom - hyped up on belated worry and adrenalin and she hadn't been much better. More angry at herself than anything for missing that shot when she'd snarled right back. Telling him if he was going to run off the mouth about things they couldn't change, he might as well put his lips to good use.

It had been one of those moments she wished she could have recorded, just to see that expression one more time. Because before she could really register what she'd just said, Daryl had already stopped dead. Looking back at her through the sweaty strings of his hair - dark and slightly unhinged – and suddenly she was back to bark against a spindly looking apple tree. Head spinning, mind just a few meters shy of catching up before he fried her right out again. Working her pants down her hips with violent, jerking tugs that had her bouncing off his face  _every single time_. Rubbing the inseam of her crotch against his lips - grazing and insistent until Daryl cursed and took her panties along with it.

She wasn't sure what was hotter. The fact that he hadn't said a word since he'd hemmed her in or that she hadn't seen him even so much as come up for  _air_  since they'd started. Devoting every inch, every lick and tease to her and her alone.

Her slacks and underwear pooled around her ankles. Leaving her bare and exposed, blushing high on her cheeks as the cold air whispered across overheated skin. But she didn't have a chance to get embarrassed or shy away. He didn't let her. Because before she could do anything about it, he was already there, muting a groan into her slit.

She came unexpectedly. Predictable only in the sense that it seemed to be the theme for the day as Daryl grunted, twisting the finger he'd squeezed in there without her noticing. Teeth grazing her clit as every nerve ending she'd forgotten she had,  _sparked._

She remembered porcelain-slim thighs clenching as she muffled a wordless cry – all pitching base syllables and maybe even a whimper - around her fist. Bucking into his face as he nuzzled her through the aftershocks. Hips rocking in a phantom play of the real thing as he pressed a hand against the tent of his jeans. Hissing even as his chin tipped up, sloe-eyed and pleasantly docile as he nudged the ball firmly back into her court. Resting his head against the v of her and breathing hard. One hand still welded to her hip – unconsciously firm – as if by touch alone he could somehow make the moment last.

She blinked. Sated but still thrumming with it. Already gearing up for round two as she carded a hand through his hair. Smoothing it back from his face before running a single finger through a streak of her juices. Musky and pungent before she brought it back to her lips and  _bathed_ it clean _._

"My turn," she whispered raggedly.


End file.
